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A friend sent this to me and I think it is wonderful.

Breathing in and Out

Before cancer, many of us go through life pretty

clueless. I know I did. I worried about things that

seem trivial now: a petty difference with a co-

worker, irritation over a spill on the carpet, too

many things to do and too few hours in the day to do

them. I spent my days running around and making myself

crazy over the smallest details.

After my diagnosis and throughout most of my

treatment, I went back and forth from borderline

hysteria to resignation and depression.

Then one day, for the first time in many months, I was

feeling physically strong enough to take on a few

errands by myself. I went to the post office to buy

stamps.

As I stood in the long line a little weak in the

knees, and more than a bit queasy in the stomach I

began to feel rather proud of myself. I thought I have

been through so much in the last year. I have been

sicker than I ever thought a human being could be and

still be alive, but here I am. I am still standing, I am

doing things for myself again and, hey, this feels

pretty good!

Then I noticed that two women ahead of me were

becoming very agitated and vocal about the long,

slow-moving line. They began complaining loudly that

they had better things to do than wait in line at the

post office all day.

I thought about that for a minute and then asked

myself, Do I have anything better to do today than what

I'm doing right this minute? Do I have anything better

to do than just be alive and grateful? And then the

answer: Nope.

That's when it happened. I felt myself begin to glow.

Today I tell people that it was either an epiphany or

the mother of all hot flashes (what we in the South

call private summers), but whatever it was, it was

powerful and life-altering. So I just stood there,

basking in its warmth, and I slowly began to

understand some important truths: This moment is all I

have. And in this moment, there is nothing I really

have to do except breathe in, breathe out and say

Thank you!

I wanted to say something to the two women. I wanted

to ask them if they had any idea how lucky they were

to be able to stand there in that line, if they knew

how many people would gladly change places with them,

if they even had a clue what a priceless gift it is to

be able to stand in a line and buy stamps all by

yourself! But of course I didn't.

Many people argue that there is nothing good that

comes of the cancer experience. I disagree. I believe

that, if we allow it to, cancer can bring us many

gifts. One of the gifts of cancer is the gift of

patience. I no longer sweat the small stuff. I don't

allow petty differences with co-workers to even

happen. If there are people who are confrontational or

negative, I can choose to keep my distance from them.

A spill on the carpet is laughable. My response to

most things is, So what? In the grand scheme of

things, how important is it really? Most of the time,

the answer is that its not important at all.

Dear God, help me to remember that this moment is all

that any of us has, whether we are cancer survivors or

not. Our lives are in Your hands, and every day we are

alive is a gift filled with new possibilities and

opportunities. All we have to do is open Your

" present " . And please help me to remember that there

is nothing I have to do that is more important than

breathing in and breathing out and thanking you for

the fact that I am alive today. Amen

Norma in N. TX

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Thanks so much, April, for sharing this. It brought a lump to my throat and a

smile to my lips.

In my experience as a hospice chaplain, I learned the same lesson. However,

with the breast cancer experience, I also learned it first hand, too.

I appreciate every day because we are not guaranteed more than that. This

cancer thing did change my life and my perspective. It did my husband's, too.

I think it gave us both a wake up call to appreciate each other more.

Thanks for sharing that piece. I am printing it off and keeping it close to

re-read.

Jan Koelsch

aprilinburk aprillady2@...> wrote:

A friend sent this to me and I think it is wonderful.

Breathing in and Out

Before cancer, many of us go through life pretty

clueless. I know I did. I worried about things that

seem trivial now: a petty difference with a co-

worker, irritation over a spill on the carpet, too

many things to do and too few hours in the day to do

them. I spent my days running around and making myself

crazy over the smallest details.

After my diagnosis and throughout most of my

treatment, I went back and forth from borderline

hysteria to resignation and depression.

Then one day, for the first time in many months, I was

feeling physically strong enough to take on a few

errands by myself. I went to the post office to buy

stamps.

As I stood in the long line a little weak in the

knees, and more than a bit queasy in the stomach I

began to feel rather proud of myself. I thought I have

been through so much in the last year. I have been

sicker than I ever thought a human being could be and

still be alive, but here I am. I am still standing, I am

doing things for myself again and, hey, this feels

pretty good!

Then I noticed that two women ahead of me were

becoming very agitated and vocal about the long,

slow-moving line. They began complaining loudly that

they had better things to do than wait in line at the

post office all day.

I thought about that for a minute and then asked

myself, Do I have anything better to do today than what

I'm doing right this minute? Do I have anything better

to do than just be alive and grateful? And then the

answer: Nope.

That's when it happened. I felt myself begin to glow.

Today I tell people that it was either an epiphany or

the mother of all hot flashes (what we in the South

call private summers), but whatever it was, it was

powerful and life-altering. So I just stood there,

basking in its warmth, and I slowly began to

understand some important truths: This moment is all I

have. And in this moment, there is nothing I really

have to do except breathe in, breathe out and say

Thank you!

I wanted to say something to the two women. I wanted

to ask them if they had any idea how lucky they were

to be able to stand there in that line, if they knew

how many people would gladly change places with them,

if they even had a clue what a priceless gift it is to

be able to stand in a line and buy stamps all by

yourself! But of course I didn't.

Many people argue that there is nothing good that

comes of the cancer experience. I disagree. I believe

that, if we allow it to, cancer can bring us many

gifts. One of the gifts of cancer is the gift of

patience. I no longer sweat the small stuff. I don't

allow petty differences with co-workers to even

happen. If there are people who are confrontational or

negative, I can choose to keep my distance from them.

A spill on the carpet is laughable. My response to

most things is, So what? In the grand scheme of

things, how important is it really? Most of the time,

the answer is that its not important at all.

Dear God, help me to remember that this moment is all

that any of us has, whether we are cancer survivors or

not. Our lives are in Your hands, and every day we are

alive is a gift filled with new possibilities and

opportunities. All we have to do is open Your

" present " . And please help me to remember that there

is nothing I have to do that is more important than

breathing in and breathing out and thanking you for

the fact that I am alive today. Amen

Norma in N. TX

Jan Koelsch

---------------------------------

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Beautiful...Thanks for sharing with the group!

>

> A friend sent this to me and I think it is wonderful.

>

> Breathing in and Out

>

> Before cancer, many of us go through life pretty

> clueless. I know I did. I worried about things that

> seem trivial now: a petty difference with a co-

> worker, irritation over a spill on the carpet, too

> many things to do and too few hours in the day to do

> them. I spent my days running around and making myself

> crazy over the smallest details.

>

> After my diagnosis and throughout most of my

> treatment, I went back and forth from borderline

> hysteria to resignation and depression.

>

> Then one day, for the first time in many months, I was

> feeling physically strong enough to take on a few

> errands by myself. I went to the post office to buy

> stamps.

>

> As I stood in the long line a little weak in the

> knees, and more than a bit queasy in the stomach I

> began to feel rather proud of myself. I thought I have

> been through so much in the last year. I have been

> sicker than I ever thought a human being could be and

> still be alive, but here I am. I am still standing, I am

> doing things for myself again and, hey, this feels

> pretty good!

>

> Then I noticed that two women ahead of me were

> becoming very agitated and vocal about the long,

> slow-moving line. They began complaining loudly that

> they had better things to do than wait in line at the

> post office all day.

>

> I thought about that for a minute and then asked

> myself, Do I have anything better to do today than what

> I'm doing right this minute? Do I have anything better

> to do than just be alive and grateful? And then the

> answer: Nope.

>

> That's when it happened. I felt myself begin to glow.

> Today I tell people that it was either an epiphany or

> the mother of all hot flashes (what we in the South

> call private summers), but whatever it was, it was

> powerful and life-altering. So I just stood there,

> basking in its warmth, and I slowly began to

> understand some important truths: This moment is all I

> have. And in this moment, there is nothing I really

> have to do except breathe in, breathe out and say

> Thank you!

>

> I wanted to say something to the two women. I wanted

> to ask them if they had any idea how lucky they were

> to be able to stand there in that line, if they knew

> how many people would gladly change places with them,

> if they even had a clue what a priceless gift it is to

> be able to stand in a line and buy stamps all by

> yourself! But of course I didn't.

>

> Many people argue that there is nothing good that

> comes of the cancer experience. I disagree. I believe

> that, if we allow it to, cancer can bring us many

> gifts. One of the gifts of cancer is the gift of

> patience. I no longer sweat the small stuff. I don't

> allow petty differences with co-workers to even

> happen. If there are people who are confrontational or

> negative, I can choose to keep my distance from them.

> A spill on the carpet is laughable. My response to

> most things is, So what? In the grand scheme of

> things, how important is it really? Most of the time,

> the answer is that its not important at all.

>

> Dear God, help me to remember that this moment is all

> that any of us has, whether we are cancer survivors or

> not. Our lives are in Your hands, and every day we are

> alive is a gift filled with new possibilities and

> opportunities. All we have to do is open Your

> " present " . And please help me to remember that there

> is nothing I have to do that is more important than

> breathing in and breathing out and thanking you for

> the fact that I am alive today. Amen

> Norma in N. TX

>

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very beautiful

Re: Breathing In and Out

Beautiful... Thanks for sharing with the group!

>

> A friend sent this to me and I think it is wonderful.

>

> Breathing in and Out

>

> Before cancer, many of us go through life pretty

> clueless. I know I did. I worried about things that

> seem trivial now: a petty difference with a co-

> worker, irritation over a spill on the carpet, too

> many things to do and too few hours in the day to do

> them. I spent my days running around and making myself

> crazy over the smallest details.

>

> After my diagnosis and throughout most of my

> treatment, I went back and forth from borderline

> hysteria to resignation and depression.

>

> Then one day, for the first time in many months, I was

> feeling physically strong enough to take on a few

> errands by myself. I went to the post office to buy

> stamps.

>

> As I stood in the long line a little weak in the

> knees, and more than a bit queasy in the stomach I

> began to feel rather proud of myself. I thought I have

> been through so much in the last year. I have been

> sicker than I ever thought a human being could be and

> still be alive, but here I am. I am still standing, I am

> doing things for myself again and, hey, this feels

> pretty good!

>

> Then I noticed that two women ahead of me were

> becoming very agitated and vocal about the long,

> slow-moving line. They began complaining loudly that

> they had better things to do than wait in line at the

> post office all day.

>

> I thought about that for a minute and then asked

> myself, Do I have anything better to do today than what

> I'm doing right this minute? Do I have anything better

> to do than just be alive and grateful? And then the

> answer: Nope.

>

> That's when it happened. I felt myself begin to glow.

> Today I tell people that it was either an epiphany or

> the mother of all hot flashes (what we in the South

> call private summers), but whatever it was, it was

> powerful and life-altering. So I just stood there,

> basking in its warmth, and I slowly began to

> understand some important truths: This moment is all I

> have. And in this moment, there is nothing I really

> have to do except breathe in, breathe out and say

> Thank you!

>

> I wanted to say something to the two women. I wanted

> to ask them if they had any idea how lucky they were

> to be able to stand there in that line, if they knew

> how many people would gladly change places with them,

> if they even had a clue what a priceless gift it is to

> be able to stand in a line and buy stamps all by

> yourself! But of course I didn't.

>

> Many people argue that there is nothing good that

> comes of the cancer experience. I disagree. I believe

> that, if we allow it to, cancer can bring us many

> gifts. One of the gifts of cancer is the gift of

> patience. I no longer sweat the small stuff. I don't

> allow petty differences with co-workers to even

> happen. If there are people who are confrontational or

> negative, I can choose to keep my distance from them.

> A spill on the carpet is laughable. My response to

> most things is, So what? In the grand scheme of

> things, how important is it really? Most of the time,

> the answer is that its not important at all.

>

> Dear God, help me to remember that this moment is all

> that any of us has, whether we are cancer survivors or

> not. Our lives are in Your hands, and every day we are

> alive is a gift filled with new possibilities and

> opportunities. All we have to do is open Your

> " present " . And please help me to remember that there

> is nothing I have to do that is more important than

> breathing in and breathing out and thanking you for

> the fact that I am alive today. Amen

> Norma in N. TX

>

________________________________________________________________________________\

____

Yahoo! Music Unlimited

Access over 1 million songs.

http://music.yahoo.com/unlimited

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Dear Norma,

Thank you for sharing such a beautiful passage with us all. How true it is!!!

I so agree with what it teaches.. I remember hearing people complaining about

rain one day and thinking to myself, if thats all you have to complain about,

how sad! I love the quote " private summers " , may I use it?? Sounds so much more

adorable than " HOT FLASH " ! lololol

Thanks again Norma and peace and prayers to you as well!

Michele

Lori Wadsworth stickmanslady@...> wrote:

very beautiful

Re: Breathing In and Out

Beautiful... Thanks for sharing with the group!

>

> A friend sent this to me and I think it is wonderful.

>

> Breathing in and Out

>

> Before cancer, many of us go through life pretty

> clueless. I know I did. I worried about things that

> seem trivial now: a petty difference with a co-

> worker, irritation over a spill on the carpet, too

> many things to do and too few hours in the day to do

> them. I spent my days running around and making myself

> crazy over the smallest details.

>

> After my diagnosis and throughout most of my

> treatment, I went back and forth from borderline

> hysteria to resignation and depression.

>

> Then one day, for the first time in many months, I was

> feeling physically strong enough to take on a few

> errands by myself. I went to the post office to buy

> stamps.

>

> As I stood in the long line a little weak in the

> knees, and more than a bit queasy in the stomach I

> began to feel rather proud of myself. I thought I have

> been through so much in the last year. I have been

> sicker than I ever thought a human being could be and

> still be alive, but here I am. I am still standing, I am

> doing things for myself again and, hey, this feels

> pretty good!

>

> Then I noticed that two women ahead of me were

> becoming very agitated and vocal about the long,

> slow-moving line. They began complaining loudly that

> they had better things to do than wait in line at the

> post office all day.

>

> I thought about that for a minute and then asked

> myself, Do I have anything better to do today than what

> I'm doing right this minute? Do I have anything better

> to do than just be alive and grateful? And then the

> answer: Nope.

>

> That's when it happened. I felt myself begin to glow.

> Today I tell people that it was either an epiphany or

> the mother of all hot flashes (what we in the South

> call private summers), but whatever it was, it was

> powerful and life-altering. So I just stood there,

> basking in its warmth, and I slowly began to

> understand some important truths: This moment is all I

> have. And in this moment, there is nothing I really

> have to do except breathe in, breathe out and say

> Thank you!

>

> I wanted to say something to the two women. I wanted

> to ask them if they had any idea how lucky they were

> to be able to stand there in that line, if they knew

> how many people would gladly change places with them,

> if they even had a clue what a priceless gift it is to

> be able to stand in a line and buy stamps all by

> yourself! But of course I didn't.

>

> Many people argue that there is nothing good that

> comes of the cancer experience. I disagree. I believe

> that, if we allow it to, cancer can bring us many

> gifts. One of the gifts of cancer is the gift of

> patience. I no longer sweat the small stuff. I don't

> allow petty differences with co-workers to even

> happen. If there are people who are confrontational or

> negative, I can choose to keep my distance from them.

> A spill on the carpet is laughable. My response to

> most things is, So what? In the grand scheme of

> things, how important is it really? Most of the time,

> the answer is that its not important at all.

>

> Dear God, help me to remember that this moment is all

> that any of us has, whether we are cancer survivors or

> not. Our lives are in Your hands, and every day we are

> alive is a gift filled with new possibilities and

> opportunities. All we have to do is open Your

> " present " . And please help me to remember that there

> is nothing I have to do that is more important than

> breathing in and breathing out and thanking you for

> the fact that I am alive today. Amen

> Norma in N. TX

>

__________________________________________________________

Yahoo! Music Unlimited

Access over 1 million songs.

http://music.yahoo.com/unlimited

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